Super Hero
by njborba
Summary: Jean POV as she stitches up her husband's forehead after an accident, which leads to kissing, musings on the man she loves and much more.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own any rights to the _X-Men Movies_ or characters.

**Note:** There will be a full version of this story posted at my web site, which can be found by following the link in my user bio. The naughty bits have been edited out here in order to achieve a suitable rating for posting.

**Super Hero  
**By  
N. J. Borba

**xXx**

He jerks his head away from me as I come at him with the needle. "Would you please sit still," I demand. There's no anger in my tone but I think the exasperation is clear. My hand reaches out and grabs him by the shoulder in an attempt to steady his neck and head. Then I think better of wasting a useful hand and stabilize him with my telekinetic powers instead. "I swear you're worse than some of the kids," I comment while making the first suture in his forehead.

I watch with masked amusement as he winces. At least he doesn't move again, as much. The left side of his forehead scrunches up as he regards me. "Well, it hurts," he weakly defends his actions. And there you have it. The fearless leader of the X-Men. Scott Summers. Afraid of needles. I try not to laugh as I continue to listen to his mini rant.

"Logan really needs to watch those damned claws of his," Scott declares just before pulling away again while I pierce the needle through his wounded skin. I sigh and refocus my efforts on steadying him. He's finally still for another moment as I resume the task. Too bad I can't stop him from complaining. "Just because he can heal in a matter of seconds doesn't mean everyone else can. I think he does it on purpose, just to provoke me," he finally concludes.

"It was a training exercise, these things happen. It was just an accident," I remind him. "And he told me that he was sorry," I add as I continue the delicate work on his cut.

"Oh, I'm sure he did," he scoffs at my words before launching off on another tirade about the metal clawed man.

All I can do is roll my eyes as I listen to my dear husband drone on again. I'm fairly used to the banter that continuously plagues Scott and Logan's relationship. It started nearly the minute Logan first appeared at the Xavier mansion a few years ago. Back then it had been a pissing contest to see who could win the girl. Not that Logan ever really stood a chance with me because I had already been, won, for lack of a better word. But that didn't stop the two of them from going at it.

After my little episode with the Phoenix, which sort of shook everything and everyone up for almost a year, Scott and I made it very clear to Logan that we were very much in love and intended to get married. That's when their rivalry turned into more of a territorial battle. Scott doesn't like the fact that there is suddenly another rooster in the chicken coop. And Logan is still testing his boundaries, something that he's probably never had before in his life. Which all adds up to the fact that they are worse than most of the teenagers we have running around this school.

My thoughts suddenly return to the present, realizing I've drowned out most of Scott's words. He doesn't seem to notice though as I finish up the last stitch. Only seven total. "There, all done," the announcement is made as I tie off the end and carefully snip it with a pair of scissors.

"That's it?" Scott questions me, pulled from his own wandering thoughts. He runs a hand gently over the stitched area. "Well, that wasn't so bad," he says.

A small chuckle manages to escape my lips, despite my best effort not to laugh at him. Scott is one of the strongest guys I know. He could do battle, single handedly, with Magneto and the entire brotherhood without even batting an eyelash. But when it comes to needles, he can be the biggest baby of them all. "Right," I draw out the syllables of that word and shake my head as I put away the suture kit. Then I reach for an item on the table beside Scott, open the package and proceed to apply it.

"What is that?" Scott asks, stopping my hand in mid air before I can even reach his forehead. He looks up at the object in my grasp and frowns. His gaze falls slightly to meet my eyes.

"It's a band-aid, genius," I quickly reply. Breaking free from his grasp, I resume my previous course toward his stitches.

"You are _not_ putting that on my forehead," Scott protests, stopping my advance again. He gives me a warning look as he holds my arm away from him. "You just stitched it up, why does it need a band-aid?" he asks.

"It could get infected, that's why," I tell him. "And because I'm your wife and I said so," I add the last part, trying to lighten the mood a little. I proceed with my third attempt to reach his forehead, only to have my hand swatted away again. "What is wrong with you today?" I ask in a frustrated tone, dropping both hands to my side in momentary defeat.

"Okay, I understand the band-aid issue now, but why that particular one?" Scott queries.

His question catches me off guard and I look at him curiously for a second before glancing down at the object in my hand. I can feel the corner of my lips turn upward as a smile spreads over my face. I honestly hadn't even realized my mistake. But then I remember something else. "Sorry, I forgot that these are the only ones we have left," I apologize.

He looks doubtful of my words. "This is a state of the art medical facility and you're telling me that all you have are _Spiderman_ band-aids?" Scott asks, frowning at my explanation. He does not appear to be amused.

"Well, this is a school and most of my patients are much younger than you," I swiftly jump to my own defense. "Also, the shipment I ordered last week should have been here yesterday but it wasn't. So, yes, at the moment all we have are the _Spiderman_ band-aids," I politely inform my husband. "And, like it or not, I have to put something over those stitches so, it's going to have to be _Spiderman_ or duct tape," I conclude.

"I'll take the duct tape," Scott promptly replies.

I laugh hardily at his response. I can't help it, even though I'm fairly certain that he's being completely honest in his reply. Time to change tactics, I decide as I move in close again. I take up position, standing between his legs as he sits on the exam table. My hands rest on his thighs as I lean in a little further. "What are you afraid of Scott?" I ask, softening my voice just a fraction. "You think Logan will tease you about it?" my question in meant to be taken in a joking manner.

"I think he'll laugh his ass off at it," he nods, not at all pleased with my teasing.

"He wouldn't do that," I try to sound reassuring as I continue my plan of attack. First, distraction. Second… Moving in even closer, I press myself against his torso just the slightest bit. I, Jean Grey-Summers, am not above using a little sex appeal to get my dear husband to do what I want.

"Yes, he would," Scott maintains, though I start to feel him relax a little as he leans in toward me. His left arm snakes around my waist, shifting the white lab coat I'm wearing just a little as he pulls me closer. He looks me in the eye and grins. "And don't think I don't know exactly what you're doing here," he intones as his wandering hand lifts the hem of my red sweeter and finds a patch of bare skin at the small of my back.

"Busted, huh?" I ask as I recline into the soft touch of his hand. Obviously two can play at this game and he is quite good. My eyes close for an instant as I marvel over the way he can still make me feel so amazingly loved. I re-open my eyes a second later and regard him with a serious look. "But I really do need to cover your stitches," I let him know as I bring the _Spiderman_ band-aid back up toward his forehead.

Scott grimaces a little but then I see him give in before he even says a word. His face reveals a lot to me, though he often doesn't realize it. "Fine," he relents. I know he can rarely refuse me of anything but I waste no time in responding, just in case he tries to back peddle. The band-aid is affixed to his forehead in a matter of seconds.

"There," I declare the deed done with a proud tone. A smile graces my features again as I inspected my handy work. My left index finger runs carefully along the band-aid. "You know, I think the super hero look suites you quite well," I tell him as I let my hands resume their previous position on his upper thighs.

"You don't have to butter me up any more," Scott lets me know. "You already got me to let you put that damn thing on my cut," he pouts for a second even though I know it's all for show. His right arm winds its way behind my back and joins the other as his hands clasp, holding me tighter. "So, can I at least get a kiss for all my troubles?" he asks.

"Of course," I easy answer. My hands run up along his arms and come to rest on his shoulders as I lean in slowly. I bring my lips into very close contact of his, noticing that he is watching me intently the whole time. When I finally see his eyes close in anticipation, I divert my course and plant a soft kiss on top of his band-aid covered wound. "Is that better?" I ask, pulling away from him a little.

Scott opens his eyes and looks rather disappointed as he regards me. "Well, yes," he reluctantly admits. "But I was actually hoping the kiss might touch a slightly lower part of my anatomy," he playfully intones, pinching me lightly where his hands are still joined behind my back.

"Scott!" I jump somewhat at his touch and squeak his name out in an admonishing tone. I try to squirm out of his embrace but he's not budging.

"What?" Scott asks, looking up at me with an innocent smile upon his face. "I meant my lips," he adds in a defensive tone, though it's not very convincing and I know he didn't meant it to be either. "But what exactly did you have in mind?" he asks of me, curious and excited. The later I know for sure because I can feel it straining against my stomach.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I tease him.

"Ah, yes I would actually," he replies, drawing me in even closer which I didn't actually think was possible.

_Later._ I send the word telepathically before drawing my lips gently over his. It starts off as a soft, sweet kiss but slowly grows in intensity. I run my tongue along the line where his lips meet, silently asking his permission to deepen the exchange. Scott reacts to my intentions almost instantly as he parts his lips and easily allows me access to his playful tongue.

_How much later?_ His thought reaches out to my mind as his hands work their way up my back and then down again. He moves them around to my front and carefully slips the lab coat off over my shoulders as our kiss continues. I know he's serious now because it's rare for him to make such a move in any area of the school where someone could walk in on us. Even though the infirmary and lab are relatively far away from the main hub of things, kids are always showing up with various cuts and bruises to be treated.

Miscellaneous scrapes and cuts are the farthest thing from my mind though as I feel myself slowly slipping out of touch with reality. I concentrate fully on what my husband is doing and get lost easily in his touch. A few minutes later it takes all the mental strength I have to pull away from our embrace. I kiss him once more, quickly on the lips, before I verbalize my offer. "How about, as long as it takes to close up the infirmary and make it back out to our cottage?" I answer his earlier thought.

His face sobers from our brief encounter and he looks at me intently. "Are you serious?" he asks. "I mean, are you sure? I know you haven't been feeling up to it lately," he points out, trying not to pressure me.

I find it very sweet that he's worried about me and that he's obviously willing to wait even longer if it means my well being. But I know it's been a long time for him and truthfully, it's been a long time for me too. I'm finally feeling like myself again, for the most part. And I want nothing more at the moment than to make love to my adoring husband. "I'm sure," the honesty seeps from my words. "I'm feeling much better," I assure him.

A grin lights up his face and I swear I've seen kids on Christmas morning with less enthusiasm than what's reflected in his smile. "Okay then, but only if you're sure," he adds, checking once more to see that I'm alright with it.

"Scott, would you please stop asking stupid questions and just help me close this place up?" I implored him as I reluctantly retreat from his hold. He wastes no time jumping down from the exam table. And we make short work of turning off machines and lights before heading off, hand in hand, toward home.

**xXx**

The cottage by the lake is our small retreat from the school. It's almost a mile away which means nosey teenagers are likely to think twice before venturing out to disturb us. Professor Xavier deeded us the modest partition of land and the building over a year ago, just before our wedding. It was our favorite gift, our own little oasis. The place has two bedrooms, one bath and a spacious living/kitchen/dinning area. It's perfect for our small family of two, with just enough room to expand a little if needed.

I flop down on our bed, flinging my arms out to the sides, grateful that the work day is over. I love being a doctor. Genetic research is a calling I hadn't planned to pursue at first but it's one that has become near and dear to my heart. And I actually enjoy getting to take care of the school's students and faculty. It makes me feel like a part of a very large, extended family. But at the end of the day, I like when it's just Scott and I alone in our own place, in our own bed where there are no interruptions.

Scott watches me out of the corner of his eye as he undresses. He thinks I can't tell when he's watching me, claims that the lenses obscure his eyes too much to be able to see them. But I know. There's just the smallest hint of red light that shines through the lenses and I can tell when it's focused my way. I watch him for a while, content to rest on the bed for a moment. I _am_ tired but I won't let that stop me. It really has been too long, for both of us.

His blue button down shirt is discarded first and then the simple white undershirt is pulled up over his head and dropped to the floor to meet the other one. I feel my desire start to stir again, just a little, as I stare at his beautiful bare chest. He kicks his shoes off next then sits on the edge of the bed with his back toward me while he pulls off each sock and tosses them aside. His back side is nothing to be ashamed of either. The thought makes me grin with anticipation as I imagine my lips on his naked flesh. He turns his head and smiles at me knowingly. I'm sure that thought slipped through to him.

I shrug my shoulders at him, not feeling at all guilty for my thoughts. His right hand rests on my knee for a moment. He gives it a gentle squeeze before he bends at the waist and reaches for my shoes, which I was too lazy to remove before I sunk down on the bed. Scott takes care of this problem for me, slipping each heel from my tired feet.

"Can I help with the rest?" he asks of me with a predatory smile.

How could I resist such a look or offer? I can't. "Please," I respond.

He scoots himself back a little ways on the bed and reaches for my outstretched arm. Taking it from my offered position, he pulls me up into a seated position and takes the opportunity to steal a quick kiss. An involuntary smile erupts upon my face. Even the simplest kiss from Scott can turn me into a pile of goo. I feel my center flare again and secretly hope he doesn't waste too much time with my clothes and the rest of his.

I think perhaps he picked up on those thoughts as well because he doesn't waste any time, working efficiently at removing all cumbersome items of clothing. He also does not disappoint as we lose ourselves in the passion of the evening, giving and receiving in equal amounts. Not to mention one rather unexpected surprise from my husband that leaves me fairly well spent.

An extremely pleased smile curls his lips as he withdraws from me a few minutes later and flops down onto the bed at my side. "Wow," the word flutters from his mouth as he wraps his arms around me. "That was definitely worth the wait," he concludes.

I'm pretty much speechless at this point, still feeling the slight tingle of excitement between my legs. My thoughts echo the words he spoke aloud. It had definitely been worth the wait. And I hope we never go that long again without being together. If the way I'm feeling now is any indication, I'm fairly certain we won't. I turn to look at him and ask a question, not with words but with my mind. _Where did that come from?_

He props himself up on one elbow and looks down at me, then shrugs. _Don't know._ This is the simple mental reply he sends. And I think perhaps maybe our days of experimentation are not quite over yet. Scott picks up on that thought too, smiles again and returns with two agreeing words. _Perhaps not._

A goofy grin rests on my satisfied face as I feel him shift a little at my side. I watch as he maneuvers himself so that he's lying with his head resting under my breasts, facing my belly. His left hand reaches out and splays over my stomach, which is just starting to bulge slightly. It would barely be noticeable if you weren't looking for it. He moves his index finger around, circling my belly button.

"Are you sure she's okay?" he asks, running his chin along my belly and placing a soft kiss there on my skin. "I mean, I can't hurt her by doing that, can I?" he asks, by way of referring to our previous exercise. His finger resumes its lazy circles around my stomach.

"Positive," I reply, refraining from my desire to toss a pillow at his head. I know he only asks because he loves me. Us. But sometimes his constant questions can start to get on my nerves. My hand comes down to meet his atop my bare belly. "At the moment she's only about three inches long and very well protected inside my uterus," I explain. "You really can't hurt her by doing that Scott. Sex is perfectly safe during pregnancy until about the last month, so enjoy it while you can," I conclude.

I hope to enjoy it while I can as well. The last three months have been pretty miserable with the constant morning sickness, not to mention the afternoon and night sickness as well. It's no wonder Scott's been stepping so lightly around me lately. I haven't exactly been myself, but that can mostly be explained away by all the hormones rampaging through my body. It takes a lot more effort than I ever realized to grow another person. It's one thing, being a doctor and understanding the biology of it all. It's another thing entirely to experience it first hand.

Scott takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips, kissing my palm. His head moves back into position atop my stomach, right ear pressed against my flesh. He pulls my hand in and tucks in under his cheek like a pillow. "Hey there," I hear his voice become very soft and sweet. He speaks lovingly to me all the time but this is a new tone that I've never heard from him before. "I don't know if you can hear me in there yet, but I just wanted to say hi," he intones to my belly.

That's when I finally realize that he's not talking to me at all. He's using his daddy voice to speak to our unborn child. The realization makes my heart jump into my throat. Scott lost his parents at a very young age. It's something that he still doesn't like to talk about. I never push him on the issue but I think he's been so worried lately because he's not exactly sure what a father's role is in a child's life. Being tossed around from foster home to foster home, he missed out on what it was like to have a dad.

He wasn't sure for a long time if he even wanted kids. And I think he's still a little uncertain on the whole concept, but he's slowly coming around. He's always been good with the students at Xavier's. A lot of them think of him as a father figure in their lives, especially those whose own families have abandoned them because of their Mutant abilities. Of course it's a lot different to be thought of as a father and actually being one.

When we finally got married a little over a year ago I was thirty-five years old and starting to feel my biological clock tick its way into oblivion. I'd wanted kids for a while but certain things always seemed to get in the way of that goal. Death, re-birth, shattering and re-defining most of the known laws of physics, fighting against the evil brotherhood of Mutants; just your every day obstacles. I knew that the risk factors, to me and to a baby, had gone up considerably over the years. Not to mention that, statistically, even getting pregnant past thirty is considerably more difficult.

After making love the first night of our honeymoon, Scott and I talked at great length about babies and starting a family. In the end we decided to forgo any sort of future contraceptive use. We wouldn't aggressively pursue getting pregnant, just let nature take its course. I made it clear that I didn't want to go the route of fertility drugs or any sort of artificial means. If it happened, it happened. If it didn't, we were prepared to spend our lives as a childless couple. We were both content with the decision.

Ten months later, we were both shocked and overjoyed to realize that nature had indeed taken action. Contrary to popular belief, I didn't know right away. I can only read minds and sense thoughts. Considering a fetus doesn't have any such thing for a while, I was just as much in the dark as the rest. That was until I'd missed my first period, which was a rare thing. I knew something was up then, but I decided not to let Scott in on it before I knew anything for sure. As much as he's been uncertain about impending fatherhood, and as much as we both agreed we'd be happy with just the two of us, I know he really wanted a baby. I didn't want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed again.

So, I took a little store bought test. It turned out positive. Then I ran a real blood test just to be sure. When it came back positive as well, I finally allowed myself to believe it. That night I folded up the piece of paper with my tests results, slid it into an envelope and scrawled Scott's name across the front of it. He found it later that evening on top of the table at his usual seat in the dinning hall. It took ever ounce of control I had not to just blurt it out to him.

I'll never forget the look on his face as he opened it, read the results and then instantly turned to stare at me. I should amend that. To stare at my stomach. It was almost as if he were trying to see right through me to verify the truth of what he'd read. Instead, he settled on asking me if it was true. My smile was the only answer he needed, which was good because I was too emotional at the moment to try and get any words out. When he jumped up and twirled me around in his arms, every eye in the room was on us.

Scott's never been one for public displays of affection. Everyone knows this. It usually takes new students awhile to even realize that we're married because we don't show our affection very outwardly in front of others. I do this out of respect for my husband's prudish manner. I could care less one way or the other but I know it means something to him. And that means something to me.

Once we finally explained ourselves to the group that night, there was much celebration. We are all a pretty close knit family at Xavier's and we share in each other's joys and sorrows. I know it was kind of risky letting everyone in on the news so early in my pregnancy. There's a lot that can go wrong in the first few months. And I was worried about my age being a risk factor too. But over the last few years, I'd learned that life was something to hold on to with both hands and fully embrace. I knew then that the joy of the moment was worth the risk.

"When do you think I'll be able to feel her inside there?" Scott asks, bringing me out of my wandering memories. He looks up at me for a moment as his hand remains resting on my belly.

I know it doesn't seem entirely real to him yet, being an outside observer to the whole process. I think that's why he starting calling the baby a _she_, right from the start. He needed some sort of an identifier. I asked him one day though, why he decided to pick the feminine pronoun. He just shrugged, saying that's what he's hopping for. Later he amended his statement to let me know that he would adore a son as well, but secretly he hopes for a girl.

We've decided not to find out, even though he believes I'll know before the baby is ever born. He thinks I'll be able to read it out of our child's mind. I tried to explain that the baby won't have enough cognitive thoughts to even know how to speak for a year, let alone be aware of what gender it is. People think it's an unconscious thing; that you just simply know what gender you are. But it's more learned than most realize, just like everything a baby does has to be learned. I think he gives my telepathic abilities far too much credit sometimes, because not even I can read what's not there yet.

"In about another month," I finally reply to his inquire. He looks a little disappointed but smiles and resettles himself by my side. Leaning in, he kisses me on the lips before snuggling up close. His hand unconsciously rests on my stomach again and I pick up on a stray thought in his head that is filled with the anticipation of feeling our child for the first time.

I wrap my arms around him and kiss his forehead. My hand runs over his band-aid covered stitches and I smile as I regard the _Spiderman_ design. A slightly silly thought comes to me. I wasn't lying earlier when I told him that the super hero look suited him. I've often thought of Scott as a super hero, which is sort of amusing when you think about it because, in a way, he kind of is. He doesn't fly through the air in a red cape saving people, but he does don a tight fitting leather suit and expertly pilots the blackbird on missions to help people. But, no, that's not the reason I think of Scott as a super hero.

As clichéd as it might sound, it's because of all the little things he does. For loving me despite all the crap we've been through, which would make any other man turn tail and run. For holding back my hair and rubbing my back as I lose my breakfast, and sometimes lunch and dinner, to morning sickness. For being overly understanding about not having sex for nearly a month. For making our first sexual experience in over a month about more than just him. For actually wearing the _Spiderman_ band-aid. For talking to my belly. For wanting to be a good father. For being a wonderful husband.

_I do all that only because I have a very deserving wife. I'm no super hero._ He sends this thought to me and I realize I must have been projecting pretty loudly. I feel like a teenager again as I blush at his comment. I snuggle in closer to him as he pulls the sheets and quilt up over us. I know we'll probably fall asleep and miss dinner but I don't really mind. My appetite for food hasn't quite come back all the way. I'm sure it will soon enough though, and then I'll be as big as a house. But at the moment I'd much rather spend time alone with my husband.

"I love you," I whisper as I feel myself start to drift off.

"I love you too," Scott replies in a sleepy voice. "I'll love you even when you're as big as a house," he adds with a soft chuckle. He's much better at catching my thoughts than he lets on. And if I were awake enough, I really would whack him over the head with a pillow.

But that's just another thing to add to my list of why I think Scott's a super hero. Because I know he really will still love me when I'm as big as a house.

The End


End file.
